ay, and in this case it seems to seize on the
first sap that gets as far as the topmost branch tips, compelling
it to the nourishing of the young cones before it can go to the
making of new leaves or even of the crop of staminate and
pistillate blossoms for the ensuing summer. The cones add a
quarter of an inch to their length before the blossoms of that
year appear, and their weight sags them still more on the stem,
making them distinctly pendulous. By the last of August these
greedy feeders have not only ripened the seeds within the still
close-pressed scales, but have multiplied their own length by
four, being four to six inches long and hanging pretty nearly
straight down by their weight.

Their work is done then. Fifty or more scales has each cone, a
hundred or more seeds, if the fertilization has been perfect, are
ripe and ready to go forth and produce other pine trees. In early
September the sap begins to recede from these ripe cones, the
scales lose their green plumpness and begin to dry and curl back
toward the base of the cone. This gives the seed eating birds, the
siskins, the pine grosbeaks and especially the crossbills their
best opportunity and they eagerly pluck out such seeds as the
narrow openings will give them a chance at. Between these and the
squirrels the pine forests of the future are decimated before
their seeds have been planted. Nature provides bountifully for the
reproduction of all her favorites, yet far more bountifully in
some instances than in others. A thousand young birches spring
from seed, to one pine in our Massachusetts woods, and no wonder.
Each birch tree ripens a thousand seeds to one that comes to
maturity in the great cones of the pine. Yet there are compensations
for the pine tree. Barring axes and accidents it may live out
its third century and yearly give more and more comfort
and inspiration to mankind as it increases in dignity and beauty.
The birch may give comfort and inspiration too through its grace
and beauty, but it is lucky if it lasts out a score of years.

It is often a surprise to me to see how far a seed will fly with
but one wing. The air currents set it spinning the moment it
leaves its parent tree making of it at once a tiny gyroscope with
a single blade of a propeller. Its gyroscopic quality steadies it
and the whirl of its propeller tends always to lift its weight.
Hence with a downward current it falls with a less velocity than
the wind which whirls it,